


Two and Two

by weekend_conspiracy_theorist



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, according to my friend this fic is 'a smirk in writing form', and everything else is canon too, does it count as a coffee shop AU if the coffee shop exists in canon, so if that appeals to you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weekend_conspiracy_theorist/pseuds/weekend_conspiracy_theorist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lisa wants to know who the Flash is, just because she does. Stalking Cisco or another member of the STAR Labs crew doesn't sound fun--but hey, cozying up to that reporter that's published stories about him, that could be fun.</p><p>She's pretty cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two and Two

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dragdragdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragdragdragon/gifts).



> Because dragdragdragon is a delight and really loves Lisa and Iris loving each other

Lisa Snart knows things about the Flash. She's knows his approximate height, his lanky build, the color of his eyes, the sound of his voice, even the composition of his suit (thanks, Cisco). She knows that he has some connection to STAR Labs and that he's a genuinely nice guy—with little of the fedora baggage that most other "nice guys" cart around with them.

 

But Lisa Snart does not know the Flash's name.

 

This is… irksome. Lisa doesn't want to take him out- she's smart enough to recognize the good he does by stopping villains like Zoom, even if she dislikes his meddling in HER criminal pursuits- but she'd appreciate knowing who she was dealing with on a semi-regular basis, and she'd really love to be able to rub it in Len's face that she figured it out even though he refused to tell her.

 

She's fairly certain that if she saw the Flash outside of the costume for any length of time, she would be able to put two and two together—but Central is a big city, and it's fairly unlikely that she would just run into him on the street. She's considered stalking Cisco, certain that he and the Flash must be friends outside of their superheroic pursuits, but that just feels too easy.

 

Lisa doesn't need to know the Flash's name for any particular reason; she might as well have some fun tracking it down.

 

(If Team Flash notices what she's up to, it's not like they'll murder her for her impudence or anything.)

 

She's in that coffee shop Cisco and his friends like, mulling over her other options- putting a tracker on the Flash is also boring, trying to infiltrate Team Flash is pointless since they all know what she looks like- when Iris West walks in the front door.

 

Lisa's seen the by-lines, knows West must know the Flash far more intimately than the average Central citizen—even if she doesn't know his civilian persona, she's certainly had longer conversations with him than, say, Lisa herself has.

 

And just like that, Lisa knows what she's going to do. She's going to cozy up to a Cute Girl™, she's going to put on whatever non-Rogue persona her leather pants will let her get away with, and she's going to sweet talk her way to either the Flash's persona or new information to help her track him down.

 

She drains the last of her coffee as West chats with the barista, drops her jacket in the corner where hopefully no one will notice it until she can come back for it, lifts a blue flannel shirt off the back of the chair of a girl too absorbed in her laptop to notice, and tugs her hair back into a messy bun. Lisa's wiping off her lipstick- dark, purplish red- on a napkin when West accepts her drink from the barista, and she hurriedly shoves it into the pocket of the flannel, takes two long strides to be in place.

 

West turns, knocks straight into Lisa, and coffee spills all over the floor.

 

"Oh, God, I'm sorry," Lisa groans, drops into a crouch to wipe up the coffee as best she can with the napkin she retrieves from her pocket.

 

"No, gosh, it's my fault as much as yours; give me a sec!" West snags the container of napkins from the counter and drops down to help. She applies napkins liberally, letting them do most of the work, and asks worriedly, "Did anything get on you or your clothes?"

 

"No, no! I'm fine, are you?" Lisa pauses halfway through scooping up the giant wad of coffee and napkin, glances up to meet West's gaze with a wrinkled nose and rueful eyes.

 

West's own eyes crinkle, kind and understanding, and she waves off Lisa's concerns. "I'm just fine," she assures her, using one last napkin to wipe up the last of the coffee as Lisa carefully transfers the rest of them to the trash can.

 

"Can I buy you a replacement? I just feel awful," Lisa says, bites her lip, and West's eyes crinkle again.

 

"Sure," she says, with a little nod of her head and a lopsided grin. "Who would I be if I turned down free coffee?"

 

Lisa grins, teases, "No one I want to be friends with," and West laughs.

 

"I'm Iris," she offers, extending her hand for Lisa to shake.

 

"Bianca," Lisa answers, but she holds up her hands and wiggles her fingers. "And I really need to wash my hands first."

 

Iris laughs again, waves Lisa off. "I can wait, B."

 

"Familiar." Lisa grins as she starts to back away. "I like it."

 

"I like you," Iris says, a sparkle in her eye, and yeah, that was her checking Lisa out. (Lisa preens, mentally, but outwardly all she does is wink and spin on her heel.)

 

She reemerges, fingers no longer sticky, and the shop is far more full than when she'd left—midmorning rush, apparently. Finding Iris takes longer than it should, but Lisa is scanning the crowd, not the tables, and Iris is sitting down with two coffees in front of her.

 

Lisa slides in across from her, raising an eyebrow. "I thought coffee was on me."

 

"I used to work here," Iris says, shrugs. "I know the rhythms of this place, so figured I should go ahead and jump into line before the crowd emerged from the woodwork." She slides one cup over to Lisa, lifts her own to her lips. "You can pay next time," she tells Lisa just before taking a sip. There's a little smirk visible around the lip of the cup.

 

"I like the sound of that." Lisa struggles to beat back her own smirk and takes a sip of her coffee. She loves the egregiously sugary coffees, but this one is more subtle, hinted with cinnamon—it's nice.

 

Iris smiles as Lisa makes a noise of approval and spins the cup in her hands, searching for the notes on the side to tell what it is. "I wasn't sure if you preferred black or decidedly not-black, so I figured that one was a good compromise."

 

"It's absolutely lovely," Lisa agrees. She sets the drink down, matches Iris's smile with her own. "So, Ms. Iris. What do you do for a living?"

 

"I'm a reporter with Picture News." Iris takes another sip of her coffee, asks, "And you, Ms. Bianca?"

 

"Just a waitress," Lisa says, then winks as she adds, "and you have the face for television."

 

Iris laughs. "Print, actually. I investigate things, and then I write about them, and sometimes I end up on the front page."

 

"Oh!" Lisa straightens, points one finger at Iris as a smile stretches across her face. "You wrote those articles about the Flash!" she drags her arm back in, laughs. "I knew I recognized you from somewhere!"

 

"Oh, yes, those," Iris laughs slightly, her gaze dropping from Lisa's as she toys with her cup. She could be embarrassed Lisa recognized her, maybe frustrated that the Flash is her journalistic legacy as opposed to other articles, or maybe regretful that she wrote them at all.

 

Lisa can't tell.

 

"Bad subject?" she asks, tilts her head slightly and raises her eyebrows, sympathy etched in every line of her expression.

 

Iris makes a face. "B, you have no idea," she says, irony thick in her tone, and, oh, she definitely knows the Flash. (And she's a little annoyed with him, at the moment.)

 

"Probably not the best time for me to ask what he's like, then," Lisa says, laughs, and knocks her knee against Iris's under the table. "What else have you written?"

 

"Oh, no, it's fine, I totally get the desire to know information about your heroes." Iris knocks her knee back against Lisa's and sucks in a breath, staring squinty-eyed somewhere over Lisa's shoulder as she thinks. She releases the breath in one big huff, gaze flicking back to Lisa, and says, "He's kind, and a little awkward, and a little funny. Most importantly…" Iris pauses, raises her cup, tilts it slightly towards Lisa. "He's trying his best to do whatever good he can in this city. And his best is pretty damn good."

 

Lisa taps her drink against Iris's. "Amen."

 

Their gazes link, blueish-green to brown, and a smile plays across Iris's lips as Lisa lets herself blush and bites her lip.

 

That's the moment that the Flash taps Iris on the shoulder—or, at least, that's the moment that a civilian, with the same build as the Flash and a strained grin on his face, taps Iris on the shoulder.

 

Iris jumps slightly in her seat, turns to face the newcomer, and her look of confusion morphs into familiarity. "Barry, hey, what are you doing here?"

 

"Singh's mad at me again, so I figured I'd fetch coffee for everybody, try to get back in his good graces." Barry tilts his head slightly towards Lisa, smile still carefully held in place as he asks, "Who's this?"

 

"This is—"

 

"No need to play coy, cutie," Lisa interrupts, her smile turning feral as she tugs her hair out of the ponytail and shakes a hand through it. "Nice to see your cheekbones."

 

Iris's brow furrows as she looks back and forth between Barry and Lisa. His posture has stiffened, his hands visibly clenched inside his pockets, and Lisa tosses the flannel shirt at him as she rises to her feet.

 

He fumbles to catch it.

 

"I stole it," she tells him cheerfully. "Tell Cisco I say high, and ask him to pass my number along to Iris; I don't have a pen on me right now."

 

"Lisa—" Barry starts, but Iris cuts him off.

 

"Lisa Snart?" she demands, and Lisa winks.

 

"One and the same, honey." She moves back a table, scoops her jacket off of the floor and tugs it on. "Don't forget I still owe you coffee."

 

Iris stares at her for a second, and then a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth. "Wouldn't dream of it."

 

(Lisa can hear the Flash squawking as she saunters out the door—and when she glances back over her shoulder, Iris is watching her leave, smirk firmly fixed on her face.)

 


End file.
